Gundam Vertigo
by Arahai Karasahi
Summary: Two years after the war has ended, one still craves for carnage. how will the boys stop him without their Gundams? (possible lemon warning, possible shonen ai)


((alright, I admit, this is my third try at a Gundam fic. The other two just weren't even low-grade ffnet material. But let's hope this one isn't quite as shitty. When I first designed my Gundam girls, I was extremely pro- hetero at the time (before I broke away from conformity) and paired some of the obviously gay guys with females. Very wrong. Poor, poor Quatre ;-; anyway, I left Duo and Wufei hetero for the moment. Hope you don't mind. There may be some change-of-mind in the future. And good news! This is Relena-bashing fic! So we make her look like the bitchiest cunt on Earth sphere OR colonies! Ok, well, she has to act a little like herself, so I'll tone it down a bit. MATT AND AL, I ALREADY KNOW YOU WON'T LIKE THIS FIC! WAIT TILL MY SUBS COME OUT. THIS MEANS STOP READING NOW. And for anyone else that has something against shonen ai, fuck you. I work toward gay rights! Yeeeah! Now, I do believe I won't get flamed for anything I write, having given you fair warning.)))  
  
*Quatre walks out, clearing his throat and brushing a stray cat hair from his neatly pressed khakis. He smiles politely for a moment* OH! That's right, uh, sorry... *hehe, blonde ditz. He pulls a piece of paper out of a pocket, reading it over for a moment*  
  
Q: ah, ok, ahem, Aeyvi does not own Gundam Wing, nor any of any Gundam series ever created, especially G Gundam because those guys suck! *pulls down bottom eyelid, sticks out tongue *  
  
A: that wasn't part of the script, Quatre.  
  
Q: I know.  
  
A:... just finish reading.  
  
Q: ok, um, sorry...*blushes* alright, Aeyvi does, however, own any characters in this fic that don't exist within Gundam Wing. They're all sluts, though.  
  
A: *fwaps Quatre upside his blonde head* also not part of the script.  
  
Q: but they're like Charlie's Angels for Christ's sake!!  
  
A: nuh-uh. Cause if lucy liu were a Gundam pilot, she would seriously kick ASS!! *huggles lucy liu plushie*  
  
Q: ....... uh huh. I see. Disturbing thought. Well, on with the story. *whispered* psst! Make sure that Trowa motorcycle scene is Steven Spielburg material!! I'm funding this operation after all...  
  
A: lordy.  
  
Q: *looks at script again* ah! Almost forgot! Aeyvi is a raging feminist lesbo.  
  
A: *points gun to his head* was that in the script, Quatre?  
  
Q: *gulp* no...  
  
A: I'll give you to the count of two to get that skinny ass out of my sight before the Winner family loses the 'so-called' man of the house.  
  
Q: eek. *disappears*  
  
-Chapter 1-  
  
The year- AC 198  
  
Two and a half years since the end of the civil war between Earth colonies and Earth sphere. All alliances were broken. Oz ceased to exist.  
  
The Gundams had long since been sent into the burning white of the sun, extinguishing the violence they were capable of for eternity.  
  
But one still had a thirst for blood. One with a hunger for the carnage of war, one eager to smell the stench of battlefields once more.  
  
MDs weren't enough. People had to die. And this lunatic had the money and the power to back it. His name was Jacques Cilemous, a French former OZ pilot who had inherited millions in his parents' double deaths. It was rumored that he had killed them both himself, for forensics hadn't found enough of their bodies to discern the actual cause of death.  
  
Now, with a fortune that surpassed even the Winners', he began to set up plants worldwide, disguised as agricultural machinery factories (for that was his parents' business). For another chance at what he craved, he needed an excuse: sudden and forceful control of world power. Of course, he had already planned on someone to rally together an army of sorts, but none as advanced as his own would be. No, none like his had ever been seen, even comprehended before. They wouldn't know what hit them.  
  
And, a little "just in case" for those spirited young Gundam children, he had the ultimate surprise...  
  
}~*~{  
  
He sipped his dark cabernet from a crystal wineglass, swirling it in his palm to watch the rich liquid cling momentarily to the clear surface within. Of course, the bottle alone had been at least 1,200 American dollars, and he ordered it by the crate. Only the finest. He drew the glass to his lips once more before flicking the channel on his ridiculously large widescreen to view the evening news.  
  
"CSI labs all over the United States are still trying to uncover the unsolved case of the Cilemous' double homicide. Pieces of evidence are still being recovered from the scene of the crime-"  
  
They'll never find the truth, stupid fucking Americans, he mused, chuckling. No one will know the full truth until it's all too late. How much sweeter is blood than the most expensive wine... speaking of which, he still hadn't had his dessert. She would probably be let in any minute now...  
  
Sure enough, before he could rise to find a servant, he felt the silky arms drape over his large easy chair, nimble fingers sliding up his slightly- stubbled cheeks.  
  
"Monsieur, shall I meet you in the bedroom?" the nameless whore asked with her honey-toned voice. (AN-she's speaking in French. I don't know any of it. Sue me.)  
  
"Actually, I thought the bathroom would be more sufficient." He answered, taking one of her pale hands and rising.  
  
"Oh, I see..." she grinned with that plasticized falsetto, her every movement begging for what she obviously wanted instead of sex. That which this particular trillionaire had plenty of. And she wouldn't be leaving with a cent.  
  
She stepped into the luxurious marble bathroom ahead of him, squeaking with glee at all the wealth around her, biting her painted lower lip with greed.  
  
Jacques sighed. These animals were all the same. Well, the fun part was close at hand, he thought, grasping the butcher knife from the open drawer behind him.  
  
"I've started the bath for us, my love!" she said, again with that sugary falsetto.  
  
"Good, good." He smirked as he closed the door.  
  
Their voices were muffled from behind its gilded surface, until her horrified screech filled the otherwise quiet mansion.  
  
}~*~{  
  
"UGH! Hilde, I swear to GOD!!" the braided one shouted, over-embellishing yet again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"ORDER OUT! We CAN spare the pocket change, believe it or not!"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"STOP TRYING TO COOK, GAWDAMNIT!!"  
  
"Oh, lordy."  
  
She gesticulated a hand at him in dismissal, walking back to the kitchenette of the scrap yard's main office.  
  
"and I haven't even BEGUN on the coffee!!"  
  
"Here we go again."  
  
"It tastes like frikin' brake fluid!!"  
  
"And how would you know what THAT tastes like?"  
  
He was silent for a moment, then sat back down at the rickety fold-out table, grumbling over his cold bowl of soup. "I've been working with machines long enough to know, that's why."  
  
"Oh, gee, that makes sense."  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"WHAT was that??"  
  
"Nothing. Bitch."  
  
She stormed back out, paring knife in hand.  
  
"I dare you to repeat that."  
  
"Oh! Oh no! Someone save me! She's got a leetle bitty knife! Oh my GAWD!"  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
"Why thank you for the kind offer, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline on account that I'd SOONER SLEEP WITH MY MOTHER!!!"  
  
"That's it. Your welcome's up."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
She stormed off again.  
  
"W-wait, what does that mean?" he followed the sound of drawers opening and being slammed shut.  
  
"What are you doin' to all my stuff???" he protested upon seeing his clothes being thrown onto his small cot.  
  
"I'm being considerate and helping you pack."  
  
"Pack? Pack?! Wha- why?? Nononononononono!" he started trying to pry his boxers from her death grip.  
  
"Whatever I said to upset you, I'm sorry. I'm deeply sorry, I wish I were dead. Kick me if it helps." He pleaded with her.  
  
She swung back and kicked him in the shin, causing him to cry out and hop about the room on one foot, swearing.  
  
"Nope. Didn't help." And she continued to throw his belongings.  
  
"'kick me if it helps' is an expression, not an offer, Damnit!"  
  
"Oh, but it was too tempting to refuse."  
  
"Please don't do this Hilde, anything but this!"  
  
"Duo, I've had just about enough of your big mouth, your snide remarks, your stupid jokes- which, by the way, aren't even funny- your attitude altogether! I mean, you started out all cute and charming, but you just went downhill from there."  
  
She bundled the blanket around his effects, then thrust the bulging package at him.  
  
"The next space-tram leaves in about an hour. You better be on it." She said with a cold finality.  
  
"But... but... Hilde... where'll I go? What'll I do?"  
  
She stopped in the doorway, turning to face him with an icy glare.  
  
"Frankly, Maxwell, I don't give a damn."  
  
}~*~{  
  
The Winner house was quiet as it basked in the false sunlight, and only one or two servants were bustling about on paltry errands. The head of the estate was gill-deep in paper as usual, signing document after document, of course reading the whole bloody thing first because he believed in that sort of thing. Surely it was foolish to sign something before reading it... *yawn*  
  
He wiped moisture from his eyes and adjusted the thin-rimmed spectacles on his nose, only for his vision to blur again from utter boredom and sleepiness.  
  
'I almost wish someone would come in here to try to kill me. Then I would have an excuse to get the hell away from this desk. I just know it's bad for my back, and I shall have terrible arthritis when I'm forty...' he began to nod off again, resting his forehead against the stack of papers he was sorting through, but only to "rest his eyes for a moment".  
  
Just then, there came an urgent knock at his double-doors.  
  
'Ah, the assassin! Right on time!'  
  
"Master Quatre? Please forgive me for intruding, I know you're hard at work..."  
  
He forced himself not to laugh. "Don't fret about it. What's the predicament?"  
  
"Fancy you should ask..." the servant hesitated, shifting his gaze uneasily around the room. "your sister..."  
  
"Which one? I have 23 of them, you know."  
  
"22 present at the moment, master Quatre."  
  
He sighed, knowing immediately which one he was talking of. His closest in age.  
  
"Letita, isn't it?"  
  
"Ah, yes. It is."  
  
"What now? Severe bleeding? Bones protruding? Brain damage of any kind?"  
  
"Worse."  
  
"Oh my."  
  
"She's run away."  
  
"Again?"  
  
"She left a note this time." The servant produced a torn piece of college ruled paper.  
  
"Oh, it's serious, then." He said nonchalantly, taking the paper from his hand.  
  
Before he could read it, another servant rushed through the open door.  
  
"Master Quatre, you have a visitor."  
  
"Whom...?"  
  
His question was answered when a bedraggled young man stepped into view, a dusty army-regulation blanket stuffed full and slung over his shoulder.  
  
"You don't mind me stayin' for awhile, do ya?"  
  
Quatre's face brightened and he hurried from behind the desk, giving Duo a welcoming hug.  
  
"You don't know how boring it's been around here! Thank God you showed up!"  
  
"Wow, I woulda' come here sooner if I'd known there were people who actually appreciated shinigami around." He laughed, dropping his bundle and hugging back lightly.  
  
The servants bowed politely and left.  
  
Suddenly Quatre pushed him back, gripping Duo's forearms and giving him an urgent stare.  
  
"You haven't seen or heard from Trowa, have you?"  
  
"Nope, I was beginning to think he was dead."  
  
"Oh, don't say that!" Quatre said, releasing him and turning away in furrowed thought for a moment.  
  
"Why are you here, anyway?" he asked looking back.  
  
"Oh, hehe, long story."  
  
Quatre cocked an eyebrow. "Really? You never have a long story. This is interesting."  
  
"Ok, fine. Girl problems." Duo admitted, lowering his head in shame.  
  
"I can only imagine. Well, you're a strapping lad of eighteen, you'll soon get over her." Quatre smiled over-cheerfully, giving Duo an uplifting pat on the shoulder.  
  
"Yeah, whatever. Hey, has anyone heard from either Heero or Wufei? I've been gettin' some bad vibes recently. Thought they might know what was up."  
  
"Well, I got an e-mail from Alt05ntku, which I'm assuming is Wufei, what with altron, 05, and CLEARLY nataku abbreviated, the single-minded, justice- obsessed-" an uneasy look from Duo. "right, like I was saying, it was encoded, of course, and I haven't had the time to figure it out. I have companies to run, you know. I thought maybe the other three had gotten it, but it appears unlikely so far."  
  
"Tell ya what, I'll take a gander at it and you can get back to your work." Duo offered. This caused Quatre to re-think a few of his words.  
  
"Actually, I need a break. Why don't we both work on it? Two heads are better than one, as they always say."  
  
Duo grinned, nodding. "Alright, let's get to it!... right after lunch. And a shower. I'd love a shower." 


End file.
